


Pit of Despair

by Rose_of_Pollux



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Episode Related, Episode: s03e04 The Super-Colossal Affair, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 06:48:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6944167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief expansion of the cement vat scene from season 3′s “The Super-Colossal Affair.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pit of Despair

There was no feeling in the world that was worse than helplessness. It was a feeling that Napoleon Solo despised and detested above all others, but the ironic thing about helplessness was that one was always helpless against helplessness, as well. Helplessness was a dark monster that gripped at the heart and taunted the soul and shattered resolves and wills into numerous, tiny pieces.

And this cruel beast now had Napoleon in its icy grip as he dangled from a chain in the ceiling of the warehouse that Cariago owned. And the creature squeezed at his heart as his partner was unceremoniously dumped into a pit of liquid cement—and their captors laughed at his misfortune.

For a while, Napoleon dared to let himself hope that Illya’s inherent survival instincts would allow him to save himself. The cronies had left, leaving Napoleon alone, and he had proceeded to call out to the Russian.

“Illya!” he exclaimed. “Illya, they’re gone—you can surface now!”

But he did not. The gray liquid continued to stay as it was, undisturbed—proving that there was no attempt to break through the surface. And the beast’s grip on Napoleon’s heart tightened.

“Illya!? _ILLYA_!?”

There was no answer—no sign of life from the vat. And as the minutes ticked by, with Napoleon desperately trying to get the chain he was dangling on to lower so that he could reach him, the bitter truth began to sink in—he had watched his partner die right before his eyes without being able to help him.

He wasn’t sure how long it had taken to get back on his feet; Napoleon was in a daze now as he freed himself from the chains at last, staring up at the vat of cement that seemed to leer at him. He had to get Illya’s body out of that thing for a proper funeral. He owed his partner that much.

By the time he had made it to the top of the vat, Napoleon was dismayed to see that the cement had hardened, forming an impervious, gray barrier. Even in death, Illya had to suffer such indignity…

The train of thought trailed off as he finally noticed the straw sticking up out of the cement. And then Napoleon did a very dangerous thing—he dared to hope again. He dared to hope as he pounded on the solid, gray barrier, hoping that, somehow, Illya Kuryakin was still alive.

Napoleon wasn’t one who usually believed in miracles, but as he finally heard Illya’s voice reply to him, he was beginning to consider that they did happen. His declaration of being glad to see that Illya was still among the world of the living was, no doubt, the understatement of the century.

It took hours of tenacious chipping and chiseling to free his partner’s face and head from the cement. Napoleon paused for a minute, watching as Illya caught his breath, hoping that the grayish pallor to the Russian’s face was on account of the cement dust and not because he had been on the verge of asphyxia.

It was after a minute of greedily gulping the air around him that Illya attempted to turn his head as best he could to look at him.

“…Do you intend to extract the rest of me, or am I to get used to the idea of serving as a giant paperweight for the rest of my days?”

Despite himself, Napoleon smiled in relief as he resumed his quest to free his partner. Illya was going to be just fine.


End file.
